


it rained through the night

by duCOQUELICOT



Series: Zutara Week 2020 [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Detectives, Drawing, F/M, High School, Mystery solving, Photography, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2020, art class, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25549369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duCOQUELICOT/pseuds/duCOQUELICOT
Summary: Katara doesn't even want to talk to that moody, silent kid in her after school art class. But she has no choice, because when they both end up at the wrong place at the wrong time, they'll have to work together to solve the mystery.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zutara Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850281
Comments: 27
Kudos: 82
Collections: Zutara Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **hey dark eyes  
>  rest with me a while as I drift closer to sleep  
> still cannot  
> still cannot find no peace  
>   
> \-- Half Moon Run**

"Hey, can I see that?"

"No." 

She doesn't look up. She knows who's talking to her and she is not interested in this conversation.

"Please?"

Something in his voice, maybe it's the husky undertones that betray puberty is already hitting him hard, makes her put her pencil down and tilt her head so she can see him. He's towering over her desk, thumbs hooked behind the belt loops of his black jeans.

It's just an act. She knows this, because she has seen him this one other time, as well. When the black Jaguar had picked him up from their art class. There was a girl in the car already, with a sniping voice. 

"Get in, asshole." 

But Zuko, that's his name, lingered in front of the open car door, his backpack loosely swinging over his right shoulder. He seemed to wait for something, or someone. Maybe, Katara had thought, he wanted to say goodbye to Teacher. 

It didn't matter, because after only a few seconds, another car door opened. A tall man appeared, wearing a dark suit. 

He was handsome in a cruel way. 

This man, whom Katara could only presume was Zuko's father, had walked around the car, grabbed his son by the front of his leather jacket and lifted him up in the air, smacking him against the Jaguar. 

She couldn't hear what the man said to Zuko, because he wasn't shouting. It was more like an angry whisper. But whatever he said, it worked. Zuko crumpled like a piece of paper and slid into the car.

But she's not telling him about this as he fingers the edges of her sketching paper with his slender, pale fingers. In fact, she's not planning on telling him ever.

"Don't touch that."

"Why not? It's not like you're drawing here."

"Just don't touch it."

Much to her surprise, he complies.

Katara doesn't know much about Zuko. Yes, she knows about his scar. But this everyone knows. It's hard to miss. 

She knows he drinks the tea they get during art class without sugar. She knows he usually wears black jeans and a black leather jacket that has greasy patches on the elbows. She knows he doesn't smoke. She knows he doesn't talk much. She knows his preferred art style is black and white photographs, 35 millimeter, developed in the dark room that's behind the door in the back of the classroom. There's a warning sign on the door. Zuko made it himself. 

She knows he always has ink stains on his fingers, even though she never sees him holding a fountain pen.

But Katara doesn't know _why_ he's in her art class. He doesn't seem like the type of person to like this kind of stuff, sitting with thirteen other kids in a musty room with a teacher who is amiable although scatterbrained. Oftentimes, they don't create much art at all. Instead, they talk, and make jokes, and do experiments to see how many sugar cubes you can dissolve in tea before it's too much and the sugar sinks to the bottom of the tea glass and stays there.

Zuko never participates. He sits at his desk and he works. 

She also doesn't know what he likes to do for fun, what he wanted to become when he was little. She doesn't know what keeps him up at night, what he dreams about, who his friends are.

Hell, she doesn't even know where he goes to _school_.

But Katara doesn't want to know all these things about him. She is perfectly content with their little universe as it is now. Or rather, as it was, because for some reason, Zuko has decided that today is the perfect day to start bugging her.

"What do you want?" she asks, unable to keep her annoyance out of her voice.

"I told you. Let me see that." He tugs on her sketching paper.

"Ask nicely." She smacks his hand with her ruler. She doesn't do it hard, but the effect is immediate. He jerks his hand away, and Katara is once again reminded of the Jaguar.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Can I see that?"

"Say please."

She is secretly pleased with suddenly holding this much power over him. Even if she still doesn't get why he wants to take a look at her shoddy sketches so badly.

"Can I see your sketches, please?" he says with a whiny, kid-like voice.

"Sure, here you go." 

She gives her drawings a gentle push. Zuko lifts the paper from her desk and holds it, lightly, as if he's holding a baby. Katara knows too many people who would grip the paper between their fists and cause it to tear. Her brother, for instance.

She studies his face as his eyes gloss over her artwork. He frowns, with his one eyebrow. On the left side of his face, the scarred skin barely moves. It still looks painful to her.

Much to his chagrin, Zuko gets a lot of attention because of his scar. On the first day of class, all the girls stood around his desk, cooing over him. Not Katara. She guessed that Zuko was around her brother's age, and she already knew what those kinds of guys were like. Gross and annoying.

But her brother would have revelled in the attention, she thinks now. Not Zuko. He tried to ignore the screeching girls around him for a good fifteen minutes, then he burst out into angry shouting and threw his tea glass off his desk. It shattered on the floor into a thousand tiny pieces, which Zuko promptly started to pick up with his bare hands. 

After that, they never bothered him again. 

"Hmm," he says, bringing her out of her reveries.

"What?" 

"I like it. It's good, although it's still a little rough around the edges."

"It's a _sketch_ ," she says, but she feels she's blushing.

"Right, right. But anyhow, did you draw with this from memory? Or did you have a model?" 

Katara has drawn a peacock, in two stages. In the first drawing, the tail is hanging low, dragging on the ground. In the second, the tail is on full display. 

She is particularly proud of its eyes. They're beady and it's hard to get some decent expression into them. But after a lot of swearing and going through at least two erasers, she has finally caught it. The peacock really looks at you now, almost as if it is studying your character.

She giggles. "I would hardly call the peacock at the petting zoo a model, but yes, I have a living, breathing example."

"Can you show me?"

_This boy with his demands disguised as questions!_

"You know, just because you raise your tone at the end of your sentence, doesn't make it a question."

She is being cheeky and she knows it, but he doesn't frighten her.

"But can you?" he insists, looking her straight in the eye now. Katara is equally insistent on not looking away, and so she gives a hard stare back.

"I can, but why should I?" 

Their banter is interrupted by the teacher, who claps his hands to draw their attention. There are fourteen teenagers in his class, so this is a feat he does not often accomplish.

"Everyone, please, put down your pencils for a moment. I have an announcement to make. For your next assignment, I want you all to team up into pairs." 

Zuko looks at her with a triumphant grin and Katara already knows she's toast.

"I would like to team up with Katara, sir," he says in the brief silence that follows.

"That's fine, Zuko. But we're not there yet, I still have to explain the assignment."

"I would like _not_ to pair up with Zuko, sir," Katara adds, raising her hand in desperation.

"Please, let's discuss this later, okay?" Teacher looks at them from over his gold-rimmed glasses. They have the shape of a crescent moon.

"Now, about the assignment. I want you all to find a partner and combine your art styles to create something interdisciplinary. That means that you're creating something new out of different disciplines. So find someone who doesn't work with the same materials as you do. For instance, a sculptor with a painter. Or a photographer with a sketch artist." 

He pauses to give a stern look to Zuko and Katara.

"The theme of this assignment is 'Mystery'. Use that as your inspiration. The due date is next month. That's all for today's lesson!"

Teachers hold some kind of magic power. The lesson isn't over until they say it is. That means that as soon as he utters the words, the entire class again erupts into chaos. Chairs are pushed back from desks, people start talking loudly as they cram their art supplies into their bags. Weekend plans are made - some of these people see each other outside these sacred hours, as well. Katara has been to an event once, but it's mostly with the older kids, and she doesn't really feel comfortable around them. They drink, and she doesn't, and it makes things awkward. Not that they ever pushed her to do something she didn't want to.

Teacher stands next to the doorframe to say goodbye to all of them. He is holding a clipboard, and jots down the pairings they have made.

Katara tries desperately to find someone other than Zuko, but by saying her name aloud already, he essentially made her a pariah. The other girls would have definitely considered her otherwise, but now they just shrug as Katara approaches them. 

"Sorry," one of them says. "We thought you were going with Zuko."

She turns around, furious. He is still standing next to her desk, throwing her eraser up in the air and catching it again.

"Give me that," she snaps as she snatches it out of mid-air. 

"So, I guess you're stuck with me," he says slowly. "Will you show me, now?"

"I don't see why. The petting zoo is the least mysterious place in town." She doesn't look at him as she shoves her drawing supplies into her backpack. 

"If you show me, I will leave you alone, I promise."

"Why do you want _me_ to show you? You know where the petting zoo is, just go there yourself!" 

His entire expression changes, swiping his grin off his face. A neutral, almost cold face appears instead.

"Father doesn't let me go anywhere by myself. I need company, otherwise I can't go."

_What sixteen year old boy can't go outside by himself?_

"Fine," she grumbles at last. "I'll show you. But not today, I have other stuff to do."

He nods. 

She zips her bag closed and hangs it on her shoulder. As they pass Teacher, they don't have to say anything: Katara sees he has already put down their names. 'Katara + Zuko', she reads, in that typical handwriting only old people seem to master.

"So, when?" Zuko asks when they're outside. 

"How about tomorrow," she offers. It's Saturday tomorrow. She doesn't have much homework, so she should be fine. "I'll have to ask my dad if he's okay with it, though."

"I'll message you," he says.

"How? You don't have my number."

"I could add you on Instagram or something. Do you have Instagram?"

"Of course." She gives him her username and he swipes around on his phone. The next moment, her phone notifies her of a new follower. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says as she takes the narrow staircase that leads back to street level.

She looks behind her. "Maybe. If my dad says yes."

But she already knows he will. Hakoda is a very different kind of father.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to pick this one up first, because I'm most excited about this one. I'm trying to keep the chapters pretty short and sweet, just a couple of scenes at the time.

She takes the quiet route home today. It leads her through alleyways and backroads, completely bypassing the broad highway that crosses through her town like a silver anaconda. She hates crossing it - the perpetual smell of gasoline makes her nauseous, and although she wouldn't admit this to anyone, the cars frighten her when they're all lined up like that, waiting for her to get to the other side of the street. Who's to say one of them isn't going to overlook her one day and run her over? 

Katara passes store fronts, windows filled with discolored posters and knick knacks that seem to have come out of another era. There are no other pedestrians to greet. only bikes and street cats. She stops to reach out her hand to one of them, a ferocious tabby with one eye. In her mind, his name is Tora, because he looks like a tiger.

As usual, Tora is not interested in sniffing her fingers. He tiptoes around her, more eager to find out whether the fish shop down the street has dumped some leftovers in the garbage cans yet.

It's one of the final days of September. Soon, the pleasant and mild summer weather will make way for the rain and gusts of wind that come with fall. As if she's already anticipating the cold, Katara feels a shiver run down her spine. She shakes her head.

Almost without trying, her thoughts take her back to the events of that afternoon. What's going on with Zuko, and what does he want from her? Katara knows she should probably be on high alert - she knows her brother would want her to be. Sokka always drones on about the dangers of the outside world to her, even though he regularly sneaks out of the house to party. 

She doesn't think he knows that she knows - and she's not about to tell him. Katara knows a great many things which she doesn't tell anyone. 

To her, Zuko isn't dangerous - he's just weird. And lonely, probably. 

She turns a corner, the last corner before she reaches her house. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Right when she reaches the front door, it starts to rain.

* * *

"Dad, I'm home!" 

Katara throws her keys in the bowl and slides out of her shoes. Sokka is home already, she notices, because his sneakers have been crammed unceremoniously into the shoe closet. She tuts, rearranges the mess until it looks passable. 

"Hello my dear. Just in time for the rain, I see." Hakoda's head appears from behind the sliding door to the living room, smiling. 

She's always relieved when she comes home and her dad is smiling. Usually, it feels as if it's her duty to make him smile, to keep him happy. It's been that way since Mom died. 

"What's for dinner?" she asks, walking into the living room on her socks. Sokka is stretched out on the sofa, tapping furiously on his phone.

"You know, your thumbs are going to fall off if you keep mistreating them like that," Hakoda says with a smirk. Sokka just grunts.

Her father returns to the kitchen, where pots and pans are already on the stove. It smells delicious. Hakoda is a great cook, and Katara's favorite pastime is to sit at the high kitchen table and watch him do his magic. 

On most days, the dishes are simple, yet flavorful. But sometimes, when he's in a particular good mood, he'll get his recipe books from the cupboards and try something exciting. Today looks like it could be one of those days.

"I'm making a fish curry," Hakoda says with his back to her as she hops onto one of the high chairs and splays the contents of her backpack on the table. She always carries a sketch book around, pencils, some fine liners. On Fridays, she has to bring home all her books for the weekend, so she's carrying Algebra, Physics and Biology. 

Katara has always been excited about the way the world works. When she was little, she could sit in the backyard for hours, staring at ladybugs and honeybees. Then, she picked up a pencil and started drawing what she saw. Her old sketch books are full of drawings of critters and plants.

Lately, Teacher has been encouraging her to move on from nature's wonders to the human body. He even gifted her some books about the human anatomy, to get her interested in the subject. Katara has browsed through them, but the spark isn't there. Not yet, at least. For now, she sticks with what she knows.

"It smells great." 

"I'm glad to hear that. Could you move your stuff out of the way and set the table, please, Katara? And Sokka, could you do me a favor and put your phone away for dinner?"

Sokka groans. Katara makes a face - why do teenage boys always have to be so _gross_? They're sweaty, and they make weird noises, and they never clean up after themselves.

"Come on now," Hakoda says as he turns around and puts a pan of fragrant curry on the table. Sokka strolls into the kitchen as well, sitting down next to Katara.

"Who are you texting?" she asks, although she already knows.

"No one." But his ears turn red and that confirms to her that he is, indeed, talking to Suki. 

It's all he ever does as of late. They started dating a couple of weeks ago and she's been the only subject on his mind ever since. Before that, Katara had to listen to him whining about how she was way out of his league, so this could be seen as progress.

Katara likes Suki. She has only met her once, when Sokka brought her home after school, but she has a cool vibe. And she didn't make fun of Katara, which is always a plus in her book. 

"What have you been up to today, sis?" Sokka asks to distract her, filling his plate with the curry. Katara spritzes a few drops of lime on hers before she takes a bite. 

"Not much."

"Don't talk when they're food in your mouth, young lady."

She rolls her eyes and swallows. Now is her moment.

"Dad, can I go to the petting zoo tomorrow?"

"Sure." Hakoda raises his eyebrows. "As long as you have enough time to do your homework."

"I don't have much," she says. "Promised."

"Then it's all right with me. Are you meeting friends there?"

Her friends always go on about how annoying their fathers are, asking where they are, and with whom, and when they think they'll be coming back home. Not Katara. Things are different for the three of them. 

Suddenly, her mouth feels dry. 

"Yeah, uhm, not really. Some kid from art class asked me to show him the peacock."

Now, Sokka interrupts.

"Him? Who? Do I know this guy?" He pokes his finger into her cheek.

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Katara, come on. Sokka means well." Hakoda shares a stern look with his son.

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. But you don't know him. His name is Zuko."

"Zuko?" Sokka crinkles his nose. "Wait a second. I know that name. He's in Suki's class."

_Zuko goes to the same school as Suki?_

For some reason, the hairs on the back of Katara's arms rise. She didn't even want to know Zuko at all, but now she's kind of excited to learn this new piece of information. 

"He's two years older than you are!"

"So what? He's not a creep. He's just..." she hesitates. "... he's just shy."

"Hmpf."

Hakoda rests his eyes on her face. If she stares hard enough, she can see herself mirrored in his irises. 

"I trust you know what you're doing," he says.

"Of course, dad. We're meeting at noon, not late at night." 

She kicks her brother under the table.

"All right, then. Be home before dinner."

* * *

After they have washed the dishes, daylight fades from the sky. Hakoda sits at his desk, poring over reports he has to read before he gets back to work tomorrow. Nowadays, with him being the sole caretaker of the three of them, there are hardly enough hours in the day for him. 

Katara jumps into the comfy lounge chair before her brother beats her to it, and whips out her phone. As she opens Instagram, she finds that Zuko has already messaged her.

_What did your dad say? Are we good to go?_

Her fingers hover over the screen as she thinks of a way to answer him.

_Yeah, he's cool. Noon?_

She doesn't expect an immediate reply, so her heart skips a beat when she sees he's typing.

_Noon it is. See you then._

She puts her phone down. Now that it's official, this whole plan seems ridiculous. Tomorrow, they're going to meet at the petting zoo, she's going to point out the peacock, and then what? Does he expect her to draw it? Is he going to take pictures? What are they even going to _talk_ about? 

It's going to be a disaster. She already regrets everything. 


End file.
